Analysis of The Roaring Days
Henry Lawson 1867 (Grenfell) – 1922 (Sydney)
The night too quickly passes
And we are growing old,
So let us fill our glasses
And toast the Days of Gold;
When finds of wondrous treasure
Set all the South ablaze,
And you and I were faithful mates
All through the roaring days!
Then stately ships came sailing
From every harbour's mouth,
And sought the land of promise
That beaconed in the South;
Then southward streamed their streamers
And swelled their canvas full
To speed the wildest dreamers
E'er borne in vessel's hull.
Their shining Eldorado,
Beneath the southern skies,
Was day and night for ever
Before their eager eyes.
The brooding bush, awakened,
Was stirred in wild unrest,
And all the year a human stream
Went pouring to the West.
The rough bush roads re-echoed
The bar-room's noisy din,
When troops of stalwart horsemen
Dismounted at the inn.
And oft the hearty greetings
And hearty clasp of hands
Would tell of sudden meetings
Of friends from other lands;
When, puzzled long, the new-chum
Would recognise at last,
Behind a bronzed and bearded skin,
A comrade of the past.
And when the cheery camp-fire
Explored the bush with gleams,
The camping-grounds were crowded
With caravans of teams;
Then home the jests were driven,
And good old songs were sung,
And choruses were given
The strength of heart and lung.
Oh, they were lion-hearted
Who gave our country birth!
Oh, they were of the stoutest sons
From all the lands on earth!
Oft when the camps were dreaming,
And fires began to pale,
Through rugged ranges gleaming
Would come the Royal Mail.
Behind six foaming horses,
And lit by flashing lamps,
Old `Cobb and Co.'s', in royal state,
Went dashing past the camps.
Oh, who would paint a goldfield,
And limn the picture right,
As we have often seen it
In early morning's light;
The yellow mounds of mullock
With spots of red and white,
The scattered quartz that glistened
Like diamonds in light;
The azure line of ridges,
The bush of darkest green,
The little homes of calico
That dotted all the scene.
I hear the fall of timber
From distant flats and fells,
The pealing of the anvils
As clear as little bells,
The rattle of the cradle,
The clack of windlass-boles,
The flutter of the crimson flags
Above the golden holes.
Ah, then our hearts were bolder,
And if Dame Fortune frowned
Our swags we'd lightly shoulder
And tramp to other ground.
But golden days are vanished,
And altered is the scene;
The diggings are deserted,
The camping-grounds are green;
The flaunting flag of progress
Is in the West unfurled,
The mighty bush with iron rails
Is tethered to the world.
Scheme | ABABCDXD EFXFGXGH IJCJKLXL XMNMOPOPXQMQ CRSRNTNTSUXU EVEVAWXW XXXXEXKXAYIY CZAZH1 X1 C2 C2 XYXYX3 X3 |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 0111010 011101 11111010 010111 1111010 110101 01010101 110101 1101110 110011 0101110 11001 1101110 011101 1101010 1010101 110010 010101 1101110 011101 0101010 110101 01010101 110101 0111110 011101 1111010 1101 0101010 010111 1111010 111101 1101011 1111 01010101 01101 01010110 010111 0101010 11011 1101010 011101 0100010 011101 1101010 1110101 1101011 110111 1101010 0100111 1101010 110101 0111010 011101 11010101 110101 111101 010101 1111011 010101 010111 111101 0101110 11001 0101110 011101 0101110 110101 1101110 110101 01101 111101 0101010 011101 01010101 010101 11101010 011101 10111010 011101 1101110 010101 011010 010111 010111 100101 01011101 110101 |
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 2,626 |
Words | 447 |
Sentences | 22 |
Stanzas | 9 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 8, 8, 12, 12, 8, 12, 8, 12 |
Lines Amount | 88 |
Letters per line (avg) | 23 |
Words per line (avg) | 5 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 224 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 49 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 04, 2023
- 2:16 min read
- 125 Views
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"The Roaring Days" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 26 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/18076/the-roaring-days>.
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